


My Loser; My Lover - my reddie one shots

by thelxsersclxb



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: High School, Love, M/M, One Shot, Shorts, teen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 06:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20810504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelxsersclxb/pseuds/thelxsersclxb
Summary: this archive is a place for me to place all of my reddie one shots as i write them. i hope you love them.





	1. Chapter 1

_ **introduction** _

welcome to my collection of one shots!

im writing a long form fic called A Heart Like Mine so please go check that out if you want!

otherwise pls enjoy these shorts, and feel free to make requests!

\- @**thelxsersclxb**,

or

@_reddieornxt_ on twitter


	2. - leave those lonely thoughts behind -

_help me leave these lonely thoughts behind._  
_when they pull me under, _  
_and i can feel my sanity start to unwind -_  
_darlin, only you can ease my mind._

\- **_Ease My Mind_, Ben Platt**

It's no secret that Eddie Kaspbrak is prone to panic. That is to say, even now, in his final year of high school, he catches himself in these traps of anxiety and spiral into oblivion until he can sleep it off; it's how his brain works. The day smelt like spring flowers and early rain, and Eddie was walking circles in his room, counting his steps to pace his breathing. He tapped his forehead for clarity. He scrunched his eyes closed so far that he saw fuzzy static, and felt the clouds of a headache shifting in his periphery like a storm. Nothing was working. Which meant his last resort was in order. He opened his bedside drawer slowly, turned on his walkie and, having check the frequency, pressed the Ring/Alarm button three times. There was no response but he knew, regardless, that help was on the way.

His headache formed fully now, thundering crashes in his cranium like a brass band trying to blow the roof off the place. He was chewing his nails and peeling the skin on his fingers until the stung. _Bad habits_, he heard his mothers voice chatter. _Eddie, you can get infections from habits like that, all those open cuts_. He shook the thought away but, regardless, put Band-Aids on each finger. _Pit_. He looked up._ Pat. Pit_. He stood up from his bed. This was the sound of small stones ricocheting off his window. He opened it quickly, and then sat back on his bad. After a few seconds, the gangly limbs of Richie Tozier unfolded through the window and into Eddie's bedroom, like some cat burglar. 

"Eds." He said simply. "Color?"

"Blue." They had a color code for emotional emergencies. Red was angry, naturally. Green was feeling down. Purple was anxious. Orange was stressed (which was totally different to anxious). And blue was so, unequivocally sad that it seemed like the depression sprawled infinites into the future. Richie offered Eddie a thoughtful look.

"I'm sorry, Eds. That's shitty." He adjusted his glasses and sat on the bed next to Eddie on the bed. He gestured for Eddie to lay, and he did, with his head in Richie's lap. Richie worked his hands through Eddie's hair, massaging and playing like a sculptor with clay. Eddie closed his eyes and let the calming sensation put his headache at bay. Richie used his other hand to stroke Eddie's back, just lightly, with the tips of his fingers. Once some time had passed, and some of the pent up emotion in the room had diffused out of the window, Richie spoke again; "What's happened?"

"I think I'm broken, Rich." His voice was so small and scared; it broke like a record. "I think I don't work like people are supposed to." The words he was saying were heavy; they carried weight in them, and buoyed through the air like boats. Richie set to burst them like balloons.

"Nobody is _supposed _to work like anything, Eds." Richie's voice was simple and calm, which was rare, and therefore meaningful. "Look at our friends. Ben's a fat poet. Mike's a black orphan. Stan's a teen jew. Bev's... well, Bev's a girl. And don't even get me started on B-b-b-Billy. And look at me! My mouth is a trashcan and I'm a sex-obsessed sexuality-vague virgin." He was willing to take this person blow for a single chance at making Eddie smile. And he did, just briefly. It was warm like the sun. Richie basked in it.

"I hate myself." Eddie said quickly, as if he needed to get the words out so he could process them himself. This winded Richie; he couldn't imagine a single reason to ever hate Eddie. He loved every part of him. Weird hair, stupid baby-face, freakishly cute body, odd sense of humour, clinically concerning obsession with health; all of it was endearing. All of it was Eddie. He frowned, and continued to play with Eddie's hair.

"I'm sorry to hear that Eds." He sighed like he was taking on a huge job. "Guess I just have to love you enough for both of us then. Even the gross bits. Like this pimple." He prodded at the back of Eddie's neck, and Eddie sat up with a shock, feeling for the bump.

"A pimple!" He gasped. "Where, what color is it? You know skin cancer can sometimes look - oh god Rich, grab a mirror, let me see where -" He only then noticed Richie laughing. And he started to punch him. "Fuck you Richie Tozier!"

"You love me, Eddie Kaspbrak." Richie beamed smugly, like a kid who'd just got their own way with a stubborn parent. Eddie stopped for a second, sincere, and then smiled.

"You always manage it."

"Manage what?" Richie did kind of know what he meant. But he wanted to hear it regardless.

"You just - you always know just how to ease my mind." On this, Richie ruffled his hair and grinned.

"That's what I'm here for, darling." And he kissed his cheek. Eddie was lucky he stood up to close the window, so he didn't notice his face flushing, and his eyes telling a story more honest than he could ever recite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked this short reddie moment! i have so many cute thoughts of them climbing into windows and using codes for personal emergencies so it seemed like a good place to start. the next one shot - Finally Clean - is out tomorrow, and its about growing up, getting better, and running away.
> 
> until then x


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